Smoke on the Water
by DarkPoppet
Summary: Dean’s stuck in tight jeans, no Impala, and with a dead woman with an attitude. To make matters worse he and Sam are trapped in a town from the Wild West with no way to get home and a murderer on a rampage.
1. Chapter 1

Unfortunately, I don't own the characters they're all the property of the CW but I will happily make a bid if they're up for sale.

Good or bad, let me know what you think!

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Dust blew past the toes of Dean Winchester's boots. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and turned to find the dark headed figure of his brother towering a few inches behind him. "There's nothing here."

Sam raked his hand through his black hair, pushing the dark locks away from his face. "I don't know, but there's something…"

"What, a lot of dust?" Dean shrugged and sighed. "I think we're just going to have to call this one a bust, Sammy."

Sam stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He walked to the railing of the porch and leaned against it. The town was a forgotten silver mining village. The buildings looked as though they had been part of a western then abandoned at the base of the mountains. Beyond the dust of the settlement, the lush green mountains contrasted with the brown of the town.

"How did you find this place?" Dean interrupted his brother's thoughts.

Sam turned and leaned against the support beam of the porch. He folded his arms and shrugged his broad shoulders. He'd been surfing and noticed a link at the bottom of a page. It said nothing about the town but showed a few pictures. Most people would have skimmed past the photographs, an untrained eye wouldn't have caught the unusual blurring around objects, but Sam had. Dean had been more interested in cleaning the guns than he had been in looking at the photographs.

Dean smirked and nodded. "There are so many other interesting things you could look at on the internet, Sammy."

The younger Winchester resisted the urge to role his eyes. Of all the things he and Dean need to talk about, or discuss, his brother wanted to lecture his internet selections. "There was just something in those pictures, Dean. I thought we should check it out."

"I'm not complaining. Who doesn't want to visit a Wild West Town? But I'm just saying, we came, we saw, there's nothing here to conquer." Dean sat down on the warped stoop at looked at his brother. "Did you find anything else?"

"History of the place? Different reports of miners dying in accidents, there was a collapse…police have been called up here to investigate fires, but when they get here, everything is fine."

"Phantom fire bug?"

Sam shrugged.

The brothers turned towards the horizon. Sam listened as the step creaked under his brother's weight as he shifted and stood. He waited to hear the heavy footsteps of Dean approaching.

A feeling of unease settled over him as he turned. A straggled sound ripped out of Dean's mouth. His left hand dug into his right shoulder as though he were trying to pry something off of his arm.

"Dean!" His voice rang loud. He looked frantically for what was hurting Dean, but he could see nothing, no one. His hand groped for his phone. He stepped forward and Dean was pulled backwards. Dean grit his teeth as he tried to pull at whatever had his shoulder.

They were still not alone; Sam could feel the other presence as every part of his skin prickled. Acting on a bizarre instinct, Sam pulled the camera phone to eye level and jerked around to the spot where Dean had just stood.

In the small screen, stood a woman, dark hair was half-up, tendrils fell around her face, a face that looked as though she'd been beat. Her modified Victorian dress was intentionally shortened. She clearly had been attacked, the material was ripped around the skirt, and the lace on her shoulder hung limp. Her face muscles were tight as she dug her fingers into Dean's shoulder.

Sam let the camera fall to his side. It didn't matter that she was there, or if she still was. What mattered was his brother's pain. Sam lurched forward, his arm stretched out for his brother. Dean was lifted off his feet, his strong frame slammed shop wall besides the broken window. His figure crumpled into a heap, his arm draped over his head.

"Dean!" Sam barked, hitting his knees beside his brother. "Dean!"


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to everyone who stopped by to read!

Tididoo thanks a million times over for being my first reviewer! I really hope you enjoyed the new chapter.

I love to hear what you guys think!

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Dean let his head fall back onto the dusty board of the porch. A long tortured groan escaped his lips. His shoulder throbbed and he could feel every thump of his heart inside his head. He forced his eyes to open. Bright sunlight burned his corners and a dark figure moved across this line of vision. Dean jerked back and cracked his head against the wooden wall again.

"Son-of-a…" he bit down and took a deep breath. He inhaled air past his teeth and realized the dark shape that startled him was Sam.

"Dean, take it easy! Are you ok?" His younger brother's voice was filled that dripping tone of worry that Dean hated.

"Did you shoot the bitch?"

"You could see her?"

"Yeah I could see her, she was trying to rip my freaking arm off," Dean muttered as he slowly raised himself into an upright position. "Why the hell are you looking at me like that?"

"I couldn't see her." Sam shook his head and reached for his phone from its spot on the floor. "I had to use my camera."

Dean shook his head and struggled to his feet. "How did you get her to back off?"

Sam shrugged his broad shoulders and shook his shaggy head. "After you hit the wall, she just vanished."

Dean slowly got to his feet and looked around the ghost town. Nothing looked out of place. Nothing smelled strange. What Sam had said reverberated though his skull. He had to use the camera phone to see the ghost. "All right, Haley Joel, why do we think she grabbed me?"

Sam made a face at the nickname, it wasn't one he appreciated, but Dean thought it was funny. "Some ghost can chose who they—"

"Yeah, I know that response. I've read Dad's journal too." Dean stood up and gingerly rubbed his hand over his shoulder. "We need to—"

"Find out who she was. I know."

* * *

The musky smell of the old book filled Dean's nose as he closed the volume. He placed it onto of his stack. The fourth book in two hours and there was nothing about the history of the tiny town in the mountains.

He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. He'd long ago learned to ignore pain. To do what he did, what every single day required of him, he had to block out any kind of pain and work through it. It was something he was good at.

Which was why his shoulder was bothering him. The pain refused to be ignored. His back didn't ache, his head was fine, but the place where she'd dug her fingers into his flesh…He felt as though he had stakes of ice driven into his shoulder. He gingerly placed his hand over the spot. Even through his layers of a t-shirt and the shirt underneath, his should felt cold to his touch.

It pained him to think about what it could possibly look like. A horrific image of blackened skin flashed in his mind. Dean closed his eyes for a second. He'd have to examine it once they got back to the motel room.

"Find anything?" Sam's voice broke into his brother's thoughts."

Dean quickly dropped his hand away, hoping his ever vigilant little brother hadn't noticed what he'd been doing. "Nothing. At least not about what happened to make it a ghost town."

Sam placed his laptop on the stack of books and sat down in one of the creaking library chairs. "I didn't find much else besides what we already knew when we went in. It was a small mining town, flourished for a while, then was abandoned when the mine collapsed."

"She didn't look like a miner." Dean knew that her appearance didn't necessarily relate to how she died, but so far, her apparition was the best they had to go on.

Sam shook his shaggy, dark head.

Dean popped himself up on his good arm and studied his younger counterpart. "Sammy, after all you went though in Cold Oak, why would you even suggest we go to another ghost town?" Something flickered behind Sammy's dark eyes. Dean waited expectantly; it wasn't like Sam to keep secrets, ever.

"What happened in Cold Oak was because of the demon." Sam's voice was even, and controlled. "We went back to Lawrence and all of its history."

Dean thought about pushing the subject further. He wanted to tell Sam that besides getting his own ass handed to him, there was nothing out of place in the abandoned town. But Dean was also familiar with the twitch in Sam's jaw, and the look of pure determination on his brother's face. They would thoroughly investigate the place and put Dean's new friend to rest before Sam would let him leave. There was already a problem in this perfectly laid plan.

If they couldn't find records for the town, they couldn't find who she was, and they couldn't find her bones. Great. Just what he wanted to hear.

* * *

Dean waited until he heard Sam's even breathing from the bed beside his own. His shoulder still throbbed, but he hadn't been able to look at it yet.

He grabbed the edges of his shirts and pulled the material over his head. He winced and bit back a grunt. He tossed them onto his bed and turned towards the mirror. The motel room was so small the bathroom housed only a tub and toilet. The small alcove that opened to the main room with the beds was where the sink and large mirror were.

Dean looked over his shoulder then flicked on the light. He sucked in a sharp gasp of air then bit down on his lip.

The spot that had bothered him all day was a blackened shade of green. Small gray lines crept away from wound and disappeared into the healthy flesh. Dean cursed softly and leaned closer.

He ran his fingers over the mark.

It still hurt but there was no wound, nothing that indicated the ghost's fingers had dug into his skin. No reason it should look like his skin was rotting from the touch. Dean's fingers gently probed the outer regions where the offshoots were.

They didn't hurt. But something told him they would.


	3. Chapter 3

A huge thanks to Tididooo and lucablue for the support! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

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"Are you serious?" Dean demanded. He jerked around to face his little brother. "We know a pretty powerful spirit is up there, and you just want to leave it? We start a job, we finish a job."

"Dean," Sam sighed. He admired Dean's fearlessness but it was ridiculous to rush into things like he did. He stared at his brother's face. If Dean would learn how to let things go their lives would be so much easier.

"The buildings were intact so maybe there are some kinds of records left."

Sam knew he wasn't going to win the argument. If he wouldn't go, Dean would go by himself. He rolled his eyes and sat back in the seat. "Fine."

Dean reached out and turned the knob on the stereo, a satisfied smile on his lips.

The Impala rolled over the stretch of highway. It was just before noon and the sun was causing sweat droplets to roll down his back. Sam flipped open the glove box and he pulled out their father's journal. He'd skimmed through this so many times, he was surprised he didn't have all of it memorized. John Winchester's cramped, scrawled writing held so much information, he wasn't sure he'd ever completely memorize it.

When he finally looked up, he saw the outlines of the buildings against the mountains. Sam glanced at Dean out of the corner of his eye. He hadn't said a word the entire trip.

"Something on your mind?"

"What?"

"What are we looking for?"

"We're just checking it out." Dean pulled the car to a stop on the dirt road leading to the town.

Sam swung the door of the Impala open and climbed out. He fell into step with Dean who still wasn't talking. "Let's try the town hall first," Sam suggested. The building looked better preserved on the outside than many of the others, and he was hoping the same applied for the inside.

The steps of the building moaned under his weight as he crossed the thresh hold and swung the door back. Sam felt a moment of relief, an oak desk stood in the corner of the room. A huge divider separated the room, filing cabinets and more desks stood beyond the wall.

Sam started towards the first desk when he heard the cracking. As he turned around, a large portion of the ceiling plummeted towards his brother's head.

Before he could shout his brother's name, Dean's reflexes took over and he dove of the side of the porch.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean snapped. He was laying on his back and the dusty ground. He cradled his shoulder, the same one that had been hurt the day before.

"Dean! What happened."

"Morticia was just there," he growled, pushing himself up right. He nodded to a place beside the door.

Sam turned and look, but wasn't surprise to see she was gone. "Did she do it?"

"No, Sam. The freaking ceiling just coincidentally caved in."

He ignored his brother's sarcasm, typical Dean. "Are you okay?"

"I'm great," he moaned.

"Let's go," Sam stated, he put his hand on his brother's uninjured elbow and pulled him towards the car.

"I can walk," Dean griped pulling of his brother's grip.

"Maybe we should go," Sam suggested. "You've got a spirit pissed off at only you."

"We've dealt with worse, Sam."

Sam narrowed his eyes, he started to say something but stopped in his tracks. He gaze was locked on the Impala and its now flat front tires. He turned slowly to his brother. If his expression had been annoyed before, he was completely furious now.

"What the hell!"

Dean quickly circled the car and shook his head furiously, another stream of curses spilling form his lips.

"We gotta call Bobby." Sam stated, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He looked at the small screen and he started walking towards the road. He had a signal on the way here.

Dean walked with him and it was all Sam could to turn out his mutterings. They reached the edge of the road and Sam made the call. Bobby wasn't close to the town, but he sent a friend to tow and then replace the tires.

Dean walked towards the buildings and sank down into the shade. He held his hand to his shoulder and realized Sam was staring at him. "We're not going anywhere."

Sam started to open his eyes but he heard the rumbled of a car. It was too soon to be Bobby's friend and he turned to watch a red pick up truck speed past. The brakes squealed and shouts sprang out of the car as the car came to a stop.

"Why do people think haunted means come 'come-explore?'" Dean snapped. He watched the kids fall out of the kids fall out of the car still joking loudly with each other. He stood up and watched as the kids went into the Saloon.

Sam and his brother locked eyes as they exchanged a glace and shook their heads.

A scream and a loud crash echoed across the road followed more screams and the sound of something breaking.

Two of the kids scrambled out of Saloon and jumped in to truck. Their faces were ashen as they sped past the brothers.

"I think she's back," Dean stated, starting towards the Saloon.

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So, the story is getting lots of hits, but not many people are saying what they think. I'm starting to get the impression that the story isn't interesting to keep people reading. So Leave a review if you think I should continue!


	4. Chapter 4

I'm really sorry to anyone who tried to review under anonymous, I didn't realize it was disabled but thanks to heather03nmg I've got it fixed! So, anyone who wants to review anonymously, feel free to now!

To everyone one else, thank you, thank you, thank you! It was so fantastic to hear everyone's thoughts! Tammy K, Sue Pokorny, lucablue, Wondergirlxox, Tididooo, Poppyflake thanks for your kind words! Hope you all enjoy!

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The Saloon was one of the few multi-level buildings in the town. The simple sign proclaiming: 'Saloon' looked as though it had once been red. The paint was now faded and cracked; the warped gray wood visible under the peeled paint. Several of the windows were busted and caked with a layer of dust.

Dean's eyes looked over the tracks in the road. He climbed up the warped steps of leading to the bar. He glanced over his shoulder, a smirk on his face. "I keep waiting to hear something from Doc Brown."

His younger brother didn't crack a smile. Dean was disappointed in his missed joke but turned his attention back to the Saloon. He laid his hand on the dusty batwing doors and pushed them back. He stepped into the large room. Sunlight trailed in across floor from the door and the beams tried to cut through the dirty windows. Along the left side of the room a staircase wrapped up the wall leading to a balcony. He counted six door and hallway. Halfway across the balcony, the banister was broken. Dean's eyes traveled to the floor below. There was nothing there, except a disturbance in the layer of dirt.

A large bar stood along the whole right side of the room, behind it a mirror reflected some remaining bottles. Here there was clean spot in the layer of dust. He walked over to it, his heavy boots clunked along the floor. Two pairs of footprints had proceeded them own into the room. The footsteps stopped only a few feet away from the door, while both changes in the grim on the floor were several yards away from the foot print. Dean's eyes raked over the spot below the balcony. The slightly messed outline had been a body, that was clear.

But there was no blood. Where was the body?

Dean turned on his heel and he examined the bar over Sam's shoulder. The same situation, clearly the outline was another body, but besides the print in the dirt, there was no physical sign of a struggle. "No sulfur?"

Sam shook his head.

Dean stepped back away from his brother and looked around. "Looks she pushed that one, then threw the other one, and somehow got rid of the bodies."

Sam surveyed the room, his innocent face serious. "But where did she put them?'

Soft tinkling music slowly filled the room. The tune grew louder as Dean turned and looked for the source. Under the balcony, a player piano stood on the platform. It seemed to gleam in shadows though it was just as covered with dust and blown dirt as everything else inside the Saloon.

Dean started to step closer to the piano, but Sam's hand shot out.

"Dude, what are you doing?"

Sam shook his head. "She's playing it. You really don't need to get close to her again."

Dean took a deep breath. He _hated_ when Sam tried to take care of him. He was the older brother, _he_ was the one who was supposed to be looking out for his brother.

"Come on, let's get out of here."

Dean started to protest, but a sudden twinge in his shoulder changed his mind. He definitely didn't want to remind his brother of the injury. Sam was already being a pain in the ass about the way the ghost seemed to have locked on him, another attack could make Sam unbearable.

Dean looked slowly around. He was reluctant to leave. That damn spot on his shoulder throbbed harder with every beat of his heart. He wanted to figure out what the hell was going on, waste it, and get the hell out.

The music started to play louder.

Dean felt pain shoot from his shoulder to his temple; a sharp, pounding ache that was trying to dig its way into his head. A strangle grunt pushed past his lips as Dean felt his knees giving. He didn't want to close his eyes. He felt like the pain would only get worse if he closed his eyes, but he couldn't seem to do anything else. A growl passed his lips as he hit his knees and wrenched his eyes shut.

He could hear Sam beside him, or at least it should like Sam, but the damn music was playing louder. It sounded as if his head had been shoved into the piano. Dean dropped his uninjured arm to the floor to help support his weight. He forced his eyes open again.

The Saloon was filled. The music was softened by the chattering of the people surrounding him. Laugher mingled with banter and Dean tried to make out what was being said. He wanted a clue or anything that could explain what the hell was happening to him, but the snippets he could understand sounded like normal conversation.

He heard the banging of wood against wood. Fighting down the increasing urge to vomit from the pain, Dean turned his head and saw the pointed toe of the sand colored boots, the dark brown hem of wool pants. A gun shot cracked across the Saloon. Dean heard screams and his head dropped to the floor.

"Dean!" Sam grabbed at his brother's arm and pulled him to his feet.

The throbbing inside his head melted away, but Dean couldn't seem to make his body move. Sam was strong, but Dean was being a dead weight, he forced his brain to focus on moving his legs. They reached the middle of the dust road, before Dean dropped to the ground again.

The air was hotter outside, the warm air seemed to press harder against his throat and lungs. His head no longer felt like it was being ripped apart. He felt shaken, but normal, as normal as he got. Dean resisted the urge to stretch out the muscles in his arm.

His brother was watching him intently. "Are you okay?"

"I swear, dude, if you ask me that one more time, I'm going to punch you in the jaw." Dean was struggling to his feet again. He was sore and tired. His shoulder ached. He shoved his hand into the jacket pocket, it was working as an inconspicuous sling. He meet Sam's worried expression and felt momentarily bad for snapping at him. "When you would have those—when you used to see those things…"

Sam furrowed his eyebrows. "Ghost?"

"No." Dean thought about dropping it, but he was too far in now, and the only person he could talk to about this unfortunately had experience with visions on his own. "When you had those _visions_…" The word let a bitter taste in the mouth, as if he'd just stapled a neon sign that read _FREAK_ to his forehead. "Did you feel like you were there?"

"Dean, what happened?"

"Just answer the question."

"Yeah, sometimes." Sam shook his head and stared at his brother. "You know how it used to be. Are you having visions?"

"We need to call Bobby." Dean started towards the car.

"What did you see? Did you see ghost? Did you see someone?'

Dean wanted to scream, he wanted to ignore his brother and make him sit in the car until he figured this all out. He finally sighed and turned to look up at his brother. "The music got louder, the Saloon was filled with people. Some fired a gun, then I heard you yelling my name."

"Someone fired a gun?"

Of everything Dean had just talked about, he found his brother's interest in the gunshot odd. "Yeah."

Sam nodded. "Something hit the back wall, it busted up a piece of the balcony. I didn't see anyone. I wasn't sure what it was."

Dean turned over this information in his mind. He stared at the horizon, the shapes of the tress against het backdrop of the mountains. "So, something that happens in their world—"

"Reacts to something that happens in our world."

Dean thought about his shoulder again. He'd been shot before, the marks on his skin looked like something he'd seen before. His mind flashed briefly to the walking dead girl they'd hunted. They'd shot her and the bullets made black holes in her chest. His shoulder twitched violently. With a sickening realization in the pit of his stomach, Dean realized what was wrong with his shoulder. What he wasn't sure of was how to dig out a bullet that wasn't there but was still managing to damage his body.

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Please review you know how much I love it!


	5. Chapter 5

lucablue, Poppyflake, Maz Kazama, lizard971, babyreaper, Tididooo, deangirl1, thanks for all the great comments, suggestions, and support! You guys rock and you really make writing this even more fun!

Everyone else, thank for reading! Can't wait to hear what you think of this chapter!

"Thanks Bobby," Sam's voice was heavy with exhaustion and worry. Dean was acting odd, more stubborn and standoff-ish than he usually was. Sam snapped the phone shut and turned to his brother.

Dean's hand slowly ran down the barrel of the gun. He peered down the dark chamber then lowered the gun. He raised his hazel eyes to his brother. "What did he say?"

"Bobby's theory is the ghost has created a time loop to fix something, some kind of problem. He thinks that the ghost's spirit won't stop the time loop until something is right."

"What kind of problem?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't know, Dean. We need to get a better history."

They walked out of the motel room and toward the Impala. Sam pulled the heavy door shut behind him and turned. He watched as Dean fished the keys out of his pocket. Sam was bothered, his brother was using his left hand. To anyone else, this would have seemed insignificant but Dean was meticulous about things when it came to the Impala and his keys could always be found in his right pocket.

The elder brother turned and tossed the keys at him. Sam scrambled to grab the keys. "I'm driving?"

"I'm going to do it without my keys," he snapped.

Sam watched as his brother walked around the car. Dean pulled the door open and slid down into the seat. He pulled his sunglasses over his eyes then turned and stared out the window.

Sam pulled open the door and slid into the Impala. He turned the key and the car purred to life. Sam glanced over his shoulder and back out of the parking space. He turned onto the main road then reached over and turned down the radio. He half hoped if it was silent in the car, Dean would talk.

Sam knew he hadn't done anything to earn this silent treatment from Dean, his brother wouldn't want to discuss any kinds of feelings, or emotions or anything that revealed that Dean had emotions.

The car bounced as he guided the car over the streets. Sam drummed his fingers on the steering wheel; he hummed softly to the music on the radio. Finally, the driveway to the community college came into view. He turned the Impala down the tree lined drive. He glanced at the map on his phone and followed the turns. He racked his brain for something to say to Dean, something to get him talking. But Sam was coming up empty.

"Dean, we're here," he said softly. He'd made up his mind. After they talked to the professor, Professor Blake, Dean would talk to him.

"I can see that, Sammy."

Sammy. That was a start. It meant that Dean was in a slightly better mood.

"All right, College Boy, which building do we go to?"

Sam pointed to the building. He glanced over and studied Dean's expression as he studied the passing girls. Sam was tempted to talk to Professor Blake on his own just to give Dean time to enjoy himself.

"You can stay out here, I'll meet with Blake."

"Trying to get rid of me, Sammy?" Dean smirked. "Not going to be that easy."

"Well, you know, that's the first time you've seemed to be yourself…"

Dean turned his head quickly. "I've been getting my ass handed to me by a ghost-chick. Do you really expect me to be a good mood about it?"

Sam laughed. It was perhaps the first laugh he'd had this whole hunt. It came out as a brief bark. He shook his head. He pointed ahead of him, a man who would have been about their father's age sat at a table, his white hair stood out from his head, a sharp contrast with his black jacket. "There's Professor Blake."

The white head turned quickly in their direction as though he'd heard his name. "Are you the Young brothers?"

Dean nodded. "I'm Malcolm, this is Angus. Thanks for meeting with us."

Another pair of fake names. Sam resisted the urge to smile. This was Dean's method of testing rock music knowledge. It was game he usually felt like he won, but Sam had been fortunate enough to see his brother's face fall when his classic rock knowledge was matched.

"We're interns at the Historical Society and we were wondering what you knew about the old Mining Town—"

"Clear Water Creek," the professor nodded. "It's been a long time since anyone has asked about that place. Because of the time, this history we do have is more local legend since the records were mostly lost in the fire."

"Most legends are based on fact," Sam smiled. It was a patented trick he'd learned a long time ago. A simple smile of reassurance went a very long way.

"Clear Water was settled in the very early 1800s, the town was prospering by the time of the Gold Rush in forty nine. This was due to the diamond mind set in the mountains just beyond the town. A man named Drake Watkins came through town, he and several members of his gang didn't appreciate the way the mayor was running the operation of the mine and they believed he was corrupt. He attempted to take over by force and was thrown into jail. An epidemic of typhoid had been sweeping across the landscape, and enough people caught it in town that they had to move to bigger cities to better doctors."

Sam always tried to have his full attention on the people the boys interviewed, sometimes, the smallest clue could be the key to an entire case, but he was finding it hard to pay attention. He could see Dean out of the corner of his eye. His brother was shifting in his chair, his elbow propped up on the chair, his eyes tightly closed.

"Without the words, the mine was shut down. Drake and his boys saw this as a chance to take over, but there was a cave in at the mine. Some people say the mayor, others said it was just a freak accident. But Drake and his boys were said to be crushed." The professor looked alive and animated with his story. His eyes eagerly locked on Sam who was obviously his more attentive audience. "But that night, people swore they saw Drake back, his spirit. Legend says he set fire to the jail and was going to burn down the entire town until he met his girlfriend, Isabella. She couldn't believe what he was doing and shot him. If the legend was right, he was a ghost and couldn't die, so he shot her, set fire to town hall and vanished."

The old man took a deep breath with his dramatic finish. Sam nodded slowly, his brain turning over the story. He was automatically looking for holes that maybe the professor could fill.

Dean suddenly stood up beside him. Sam noticed his eyes narrowed and the way his arm stiffly moved out to shake Blake's hand. "Thanks for your time. This will make a great addition." With the brief goodbye, Dean shuffled out of the door.

A little stunned, Sam stood up, the back of his long legs pushing his chair away. He quickly shook the professor's bony hands then followed his brother. He pushed past the heavy glass doors and onto the steps outside. The air was cool, dark gray clouds covered the sky. Sam looked down the concrete steps and he felt an odd twist in his chest when he saw his brother sitting on the steps, his elbows on his knees, his forehead pressed into his hands.

Sam walked slowly down the stairs, his eyes locked on his brother. "Dean…"

Dean grunted softly and slowly rose to his feet. "So, a fire—"

"Dean, stop it," Sam ordered. "I'm not stupid, I've been on the road with you for over two years. I know you, Dean! I know when something's wrong, and you get this stupid idea that you talk to me about anything! Haven't you realized that you can't protect me from everything? Haven't you realized that I have to learn how to deal with things?"

Dean shook his head and walked towards the Impala. "Do you think it's Isabella who is after me?"

Sam sighed heavily as he yanked open the car door and flung his lanky frame inside. "Why is it always about the job, Dean?"

"Because it's what we do," he brother stated gruffly.

Sam gunned the engine to his brother's precious car as he yanked the black beast out of the parking place. He wanted to hear the reprimand, and finally after a few deep breaths turned his head and saw that Dean didn't even look like he was restraining himself. He was hunched over in the seat, his left hand around his right shoulder. He was taking long, rattling breaths.

"Something's wrong, Sammy."

Those few simple words managed to strike cold dread into Sam's chest.

Let me know what you guys thought. Next chapter we get another appearance from the ghost!


	6. Chapter 6

I was going to wait a few more days before I posted again, but you guys were so fantastic with reviews that I decided to post now!

Lizard971 – I promise I will finish this story! Everyone else, I'm so glad you like reading! I love hearing everyone's thoughts, and can't wait to see what you guys think of this chapter.

* * *

The Impala slowed down, Dean moved his hand to his shoulder. "Keep going, keep driving."

"Dean, you need to tell me—"

"Just get us back to Clear Water, I'll tell you there." He blew air past his lips and leaned his head back.

Sam opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it and followed his brother's directions.

Dean could feel every beat of his heart as it shoved blood into his head. As the car brought them closer to the town the pain intensified to the point in which he could feel his stomach knotting. Dean bit down on his lip to prevent himself from saying something. Anything.

The Impala finally stopped the dirt road, just beyond the first building. Before the car even stopped, Dean grasped the handle and put his weight against the door. It swung open and he pushed his legs out. He heard Sam's voice behind him, but he didn't stop, he dropped his legs to the road and stood on his shaking legs. He could hear Sam shove the car into park, the gears protesting to the sudden change. He staggered away from the car.

The pounding in his head grew louder.

The muscles in his legs screamed.

His shoulder felt as if someone had shoved a hot rod of iron into his skin and the molten metal was still burning into his skin and bones.

Dean dropped to his knees and closed his eyes.

_It was light, the sky was the orange pink that was only came with the morning sun light. A gun cocked only inches behind him. _

_"Tonight," a gravely voice stated. "Tonight, he dies."_

_A man came into view; a man with the same sharp features as Dean. The same dark hair. There was something different, as he came closer, it was easier to see his features were too sharp, his face longer, his eyes smaller, but that initial view—_

"Dean!"

The pain rushed back. Though he'd been overhearing a horrible conversation, the pain had been blissfully gone.

Sam had grabbed Dean by his triceps.

With a grunt Dean pulled himself away. "It was another one of those damn visions."

"Visions?"

"Yeah visions," he breathed, wincing. Talking seemed to focus his attention and it seemed to lessen the pain.

"What are you seeing?"

"Someone planning to shoot someone."

"Drake?"

"Yeah, I think so." Dean dragged his leg through along the dust covered ground. The muscles in his legs still felt weak. He reached out, his fingers brushed Sam's sleeve. Sam reacted quickly, he cupped Dean's elbow and helped raise his brother to his feet. "You're supposed to be the one with the freak visions."

"For whatever reason the spirit seems like she's locked onto you. She wants you to see everything."

"She wants to kill me." Dean stood wearily on his legs and tried to make his brain focus. He looked around, nothing seemed any different. "Let's go back to the Saloon."

"Let's check out one of the other buildings," Sam suggested.

"The Saloon where we've seen strongest activity." The knotting feeling was taking over his stomach again. Dead focused his energy on simply lifting his feet. He could feel his arms starting to tremble again. He stepped forward again and felt his knees give.

_"What the hell are you doing here?" Her green eyes glinted dangerously. She flung the rag onto the counter top, and placed her hand on her hip. "Well?"_

_"You need to listen to me." The words were coming out of Dean's mouth but he had no control over what he was saying. "It's about Drake."_

_"Drake told me about you."_

_"Drake says a lot of things." _

_"What do you want, Daniel?" She tossed the curtain of long dark curls behind her black silk and lace covered shoulders._

_He glanced around the Saloon, it was late, and the place was empty except Billsworth, the old bartender, who was often there more as a presence than any actual help. "Let's talk outside."_

_"Why?"_

_"Do you have to ask so many questions?"_

_She plucked the long dark feather from her hair and laid it near the golden cash register. She held her hands out in front of her expectantly waiting for him to lead. _

_He led the way out a side door, he wasn't thrilled to have her at his back, she was one of the quickest damn draws for miles. His boots moved over the packed dirt. He could smell the breeze off the lake and he turned his attention towards it. He heard her light footsteps over the ground. _

_"You had something to say to me."_

_"Why Drake?"_

_Isabella turned her face towards the sky, the moonlight played across her pretty skin. "I don't want to talk about this, Daniel."_

_He reached out and grabbed her slender arm. Her head jerked sharply towards his hand and he peeled his fingers slowly back. _

_"There are things you don't understand," she hissed, stepping back away from him. "I know what your feelings are. And I have to do things that I have to do…Don't you have a train to catch?" _

_With that final phrase, she turned on the balls of her feet and started back towards the Saloon. _

_He stood towards the edge of the lake and looked into the still water. The reflection staring back at him was similar to Drake's, but younger. Again, he heard footsteps on the worn path. These were not Isabella's footsteps, they were heavier, slower. _

_"You're going to miss your train," this was that same deep voice he'd heard before. "Little brother." _

_He turned and a heavy blow smashed into the side of his jaw. _

A new series of pain exploded across Dean's face, a copper taste filled his mouth. Dean turned onto his side and spit. Blood splattered across the ground. "Son of bitch," Dean growled.

Sam struggled yanked off the button down he was wearing and handed it to Dean. "What the hell just happened?"

Dean rolled over onto his back. "Whatever power that bitch has, it's getting stronger."


	7. Chapter 7

To my wonderful reviewers for last time, thank you, thank you! Reviews are like fantastic little treats, and you guys give some of the best!

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* * *

"Drake clocked me." Dean waved Sam's shirt away and spit another mouthful of blood onto the ground. He could feel his jaw throbbing and the copper taste of blood inside his mouth again, but bleeding all over Sam's shirt wasn't going to help.

Sam looked confused as he stared at him. "This wasn't like before. You were lying on the ground, then right before you woke up your head snapped to the side, and I could see the welt on your jaw. I've had an E.M.F. right here, it didn't pick up anything."

Dean slowly moved his jaw. That sickening pain he'd been suffering through had receded, now he had his jaw to be concerned with. He moved the muscles slowly, it hurt, but this he could deal with. "This isn't a normal job."

"Do you think, Dean?"

"All right, smart-ass," he snapped. Then he felt bad, it was rare that Sam acted like this while they were on a job. There was a good chance his behavior was out of fear because Dean refused to tell him what was really going on. "Look, we need to call Bobby. She started these damn things as visions, then it was like she started to suck me into them. And if shit's happening to me while it's happening _in_ my head—"

"Then it's not really just in your head. Bobby said she could do something with a time loop. Maybe like that trickster."

"Well, whatever it is, you need to get out of here. This is something I'm going to have to do on my own."

Sam raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere, Dean. You haven't been coming out of these encounters in the best shape."

He thought about arguing with him, but he decided to relish and take advantage of the fact that he was able to move at the moment. He pulled his cell phone out and rolled his eyes at the lack of reception in the area. He started his way back to the Impala, watching the small screen for an indication of signal strength. When he finally saw a bar, he turned and saw Sam peering through the window of the General Store. Dean resisted the urge to call the younger Winchester back to his side, instead he occupied himself by dialing the familiar number he waited until he heard the familiar growl of a voice on the other line. "Hey, Bobby, I've got a couple of questions."

"Are you and Sam still at Clear Water?"

"Yeah, that's what I was calling to ask about. We're pretty sure she's doing something with time. It's not like a loop, but it's like she's trying to pull me back." He stared out over the vast landscape. It really was nice but too bad they has this bitch to deal with.

"Something happened in her time she wants fixed," Bobby's voice interrupted Dean's thoughts.

He cocked his head to the side and listened as Bobby explained a time he'd heard a ghost take similar actions. Dean narrowed his eyebrows as he watched Sam walk towards the ruined remains of the jail.

"So, Bobby, we've checked out as much as we can about this place. The records suck and the only place we think she could be buried is a small graveyard behind the town that has about fifty graves in it, most of them are poorly marked. Is it possible to _let_ myself get pulled back by her?"

"Didn't you say you've been injured in those visions?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"It's not a good idea then, Dean."

"But it's possible?"

Bobby let out a long breath against the mouth piece of the phone. "If you go the strongest point of the spirit's power, but Dean, this would rank high among the list of idiotic decisions you've recently made."

"I'll keep that in mind. Thanks Bobby." He snapped the phone shut and started up the path towards his brother. The pain in his jaw had reside but the pain was slowly returning to his shoulder.

Bobby was right this wasn't one of his greatest ideas, but he'd rather control when he dropped to his knees. Who knew what could happen if she decided to pull him back again and he was in the middle of the road and some genius teenage came speeding through the town…At least that was the reasoning he was going to go with for the idea he was about to suggest.

"Sam!" His voice bounced back at him off of the buildings. Wind whipped across the worn wood store fronts and across the dirt road.

The taller Winchester pushed back the heavy wooden door to the general store and pushed his hair out of his eyes. "What did Bobby say?"

"You should go to the car, head back to the motel. I'll call you to come back and pick me up."

Sam rolled his eyes. "What did Bobby really say?"

"I'm serious, Sam. You need to get out of her. She's ignored you so far. That doesn't mean you're safe, you know how ghosts like to get pissed off at someone just for hanging out with the target."

Sam glared at him and shoves his hands stubbornly into his coat pockets. "Whatever idea you've got in your head, I bet you haven't even thought it through. You know if you go back there, you can't shoot anyone?"

"You make it sound like I'm a gun wielding maniac."

Sam raised his eyebrows, his expression clearly indicated that this was not such a far fetched idea.

"Shut up."

"I didn't say anything."

"Where do you think her center is? The Saloon? It's where she attacked those kids."

"I don't think so." Sam glanced around the incredibly brown scenery. "Didn't the professor say she was killed behind the Saloon?"

Dean squinted at his brother, the sun was directly behind his head and his face was cast into an odd shadow of blackness. "Yeah." He turned and started towards the Saloon.

"Dean," Sam called. "Dean!" His footsteps pounded over the dirt, quickly covering the distance between them.

"Go back to the car, Sammy." He kept walking, his eyes on the side of the building.

"I'm not going anywhere."

He saw the side door, its rusted hinges and the dust that had been blown over the bottom inches. He continued around, his brain screaming that he'd already done this but he didn't want to think about the vision right now. A vast open field was behind the building, there was no semblance of a lake. "Well, that's how we missed it."

"Miss what?"

"Isabella was shot on the lake bank. Here's the lake."

The wide sloping expanse of land was covered by the same dust that had taken over the town. Several dead looking trees had attempted to grow in the hard ground and various smatterings of brush littered the landscape.

Dean glanced at his brother. Sam was just as stubborn as he was and as he raked his eyes over the inches Sam had on him, he knew he couldn't force his younger brother back to the car. Dean shook his head. Just because he couldn't make Sam listen didn't mean he had to encourage his company.

He stepped towards the decline that must have been the lakebed. Immediately, he felt the pain. The sharp pain slammed into his shoulder again so hard it knocked the wind out of him. Dean doubled over from the pain. His legs simply refused to hold his weight and he dropped to his knees.

"Dean!" Sam was standing only inches from him but his voice sounded as though it was coming from under a pile of blankets.

Sam dropped to the ground, his hands grabbed the back of Dean's arms as he tried to hold his brother upright.

Dean didn't want to sit up, he wished Sam would just let him hit the ground, if he could just hit the ground then maybe it would be over…

He tried to hold his eyes open, to look at his little brother, but his eyes would focus and the world around him went black.


	8. Chapter 8

Cruzing4jensen, lucablue, spootycup, lizard971, C.M.S.Cipriano, Nilah, thanks for your encouragements and reviews! I'm so glad you guys are enjoying the story.

Now, this is a chapter I've been worried about writing. I've been concerned about how it's going to work out what the reaction will be.

So, more than ever, reviews are important for this chapter! Can't wait to hear your feedback!

Dean opened his eyes and knew something was different. The temperature was cooler and the sun seemed lower in the sky. Dean pushed himself up right. The pain was gone, blissfully and wonderfully gone.

He then noticed his pants, they were snugger that he cared for his pants to be, as if he'd eaten a large meal. He turned his head to the right, where only seconds ago had stood a vast empty field now laid a shimmering, glittering lake.

"What tell hell have you gotten us into?" The question came slowly out of Sam's mouth, he was obviously looking around, examining their surrounds.

Dean bent his knees and pushed himself up right. He glanced down at his jeans and the moan was out of his mouth when he saw his shirt. He looked at Sam and the bark of laughter spilled out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

Sam's jeans were also more fitted. He was now wearing dark boots that came to a point, and a _fantastic _leather vest, but the best part was the light brown cowboy hair set on top of his head.

Sam glared at his brother, he glanced down at his outfit then up quickly when he realized what he was wearing. The movement was so quick the hat fell off. He glanced behind him and bent to pick it up.

"You need to listen to me." A deep voice caused both of them to freeze.

Instinct took over, Dean flung his arm out and around Sam's shoulders, he yanked his brother down with him behind the tall grass bordering the lake.

"If things go off like I've got planned, then it will mean a better life for me, for us, for both of us." That was the deep voice of Drake. Dean felt his fingers curl into a fist, he had to remind himself to stay down. Sam pushed back the long blades of grass. A man and a woman stood together at the water's edge, Drake and Isabella.

Isabella glared at his furiously, she was just out of his reach and she looked furious. "If you could just tell me what you plan on doing."

"That's nothing to concern yourself with, darlin'."

Dean raised his eyebrows and resisted another snort. _Darlin', seriously?_

"Don't darlin' me drake," Isabella spat. She jerked away, her long curls flew around her face. She placed her hands on her hips. "That fact that you're not going to tell me, makes me less inclined to believe that this is for anyone's benefit but yourself."

"You'll see," he stated firmly. "Why don't you just head back inside and take care of your patrons. We don't want anyone thinking the Saloon has gone by the wayside."

Isabella took a deep breath, or as much of a breath as her corset would allow and shook her head. "I'm fed up with your schemes, Drake. I'm not your puppet." She stopped, but she looked like she had more to say. Instead she turned on the heel of her shoes and walked back to the Saloon, the door slamming behind her.

Drake pulled at his belt as he stared over the surface of the lake. Sam shifted but Dean grabbed his sleeve to keep him still.

Another figure crossed the ground, this one Dean had not seen before.

"Is everything set?" Drake addressed the man though he did not look at him.

"Just get him there. He'll be dead and the shooter gone before anyone notices."

"Keep it that way. Now, get out of here before anyone sees you."

Drake waited a few moments for him to leave, then he turned and started down the path around the Saloon.

Sam and Dean waited until silence fell around the lake again before the stood up.

A soft chuckle escaped Sam's mouth as he looked around. "I can't believe it actually worked. Is she the girl who's been kicking your ass?"

"Shut it," Dean growled.

"I mean she's extremely intimidating…"

Dean stood still and looked at his brother over his shoulder, his look was clearly one of annoyance and aggravation. Sam held up his hands up in a mock defeat then shoved them back into his pockets.

"Let's go."

"Go? Go where?"

Dean raised his eyebrows. "To Disney World." Sam, as intelligent as he was, was a complete pain in the ass.

"Dean, they're planning on killing someone."

"Yeah? Maybe that's what we're supposed to stop."

"Dean, we can't just start changing things," Sam protested. He hurried to stand in front of his brother and glanced towards the Saloon. "You've seen _Back to the Future_, right?"

"Yeah." He saw nothing besides the theme of Wild West and cowboys being relevant at the moment.

"This whole idea of time travel, of us actually traveling back in time is weird, impossible, and wrong—"

"Get to the point, Sam!"

"Whether we're back in time or in some weird ass time loop Isabella has created, what happens here, happens to us back there. Remember your jaw? We can't just charge in and we can't take stupid chances."

"Then what the hell do you want to do, Sam? Hide in the grass all day until Isabella says, 'Oh hi, you're the one I've been trying to kill?' Not your brightest idea."

Sam pressed his lips together and stared at his brother. Dean rolled his eyes and looked away over the back of the Saloon. Lively piano music wafted through the wooden slats. Inside, people chatted, laughter mixed with the music and the clinking of glass. "We need to be careful."

Dean thought very seriously about responding to this, but then shook his head and started walking again. Behind him, Sam let out an exasperated breath, then fell in step beside him. "What are we here for?"

"I don't know, which is why I figured we'd talk to Isabella, as she seems to be the one who wanted us here anyway."

Sam grabbed his brother's shoulder. "Wait. Are you serious?"

Dean held his hands out to the side and shook his head. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Do you just ignore me any time I talk about things that could go wrong or things that are wrong?"

"That sounds about right," Dean nodded. He turned away from his little brother and kept walking. A warm glow radiated out of the clear class of the window. Dean smirked and looked over his shoulder at his brother. "Think they really call each other partner?"

Sam rolled his eyes and pushed past his brother.

She was standing behind the bar, a bottle of amber liquid in her hands, a smile for her patrons on her lips. When Isabella turned her attention to the sound of the door swinging behind them her smile faded instantly. She said something to one of the patrons, then walked out from behind the counter. "Thought you were leaving."

She raised her eyebrows, her dark eyes locked on Dean, he felt a chill run down his spine. It wasn't from the room, it was for the intensity behind those eyes. Those beautiful portals that locked on him. "Decided to stay."

She glanced at Sam, her eyebrows turned down into points. "You can sit at the bar and have a drink, on the house."

She waited until Sam stepped away then she pulled Dean by his arm towards the wall. "Do you know what Drake is planning?"

"Why are you asking me about Drake?"

Isabella sighed and wrapped her fingers around his arm. "Look, we've talked about Drake, and the situation, you know what I had to do."

Dean actually had no idea what the hell she had to do. "Do I?"

"At least I stayed! At least I _am_ trying to stop things from happening instead of getting onto a train and running away!" She snapped. She saw a patron near them turn his head. She took a deep breath. "I'll get you your room key."

"Don't do me any favors," he said, his voice scratchy from the unexpected confrontation.

"It's my pleasure." He watched as she stormed behind the desk. She grabbed a key from beneath the counter and thrust it towards Sam.

Sam glanced at his brother who gave a short nod. Sam swung his legs out from under the counter and followed his brother up to his room.

The brothers pushed their way into the room. Two worn double beds faced them, along the wall was a bare wooden table and a waste basket.

"Well, it's actually worse than our normal accommodations," Dean noted.

Sam leaned back against the door and stared at his brother. "We need to figure out how we're going to get out of here."

"Maybe we're not supposed to. Not just yet. I know all you said about not changing things, and I'm sure after over a hundred years, her ghost has figured that out too, but maybe we're supposed to figure something out, or understand something. And the only way we can do that is to be here."

They passed the next hours replaying the story the professor had relayed to them. Dean finally told Sam just what had happened in his visions, they discussed what they'd experienced before and what they could remember from their father's journal.

Suddenly, the door to the room flung open. Isabella raised two pistols, one trained on Sam the other on Dean. "Don't move," she barked.

Instinct took over, Dean raised his hands in a sign of surrender and saw her brother do the same.

Isabella cocked both guns, but her eyes were locked on Dean. "If you don't want your brains splattered on the wall, I suggest you not move."


	9. Chapter 9

That was possibly the longest and most painful chunk of writer's block I've ever suffered through. Just one of those periods where everything seems lousy. But, now I'm back, and hopefully better!

Lucablue, blackkaosrose, cruzing4jensen, CB Walters, C.M.S. Cipriano, tomash, thanks for taking the time to review! You guys rock so much! Tomash, I'm really glad I've got you hooked! C.M.S. Cipriano and Lucablue I'm pretty tickled about the idea of the guys in cowboy grear, too!

Let me know what you guys think, please review!

* * *

Dean didn't make any sudden movements, but his brain was racing. If she only had one gun, he could get that way from her quickly, but the problem was in that she had a second gun and it was trained on Sam. He was not going to take any chances of getting Sam hurt.

Isabella narrowed her eyes at the boys. "You're not Daniel."

Dean could feel Sam's eyes dart furiously in his direction. He knew his brother was going to give him hell for letting her even begin to believe the lie.

"Let him leave and I'll talk."

Sensing some kind of weakness, Isabella tightened her grip on the gun and narrowed her eyes in Sam's direction. "You may tell me more truths if he's out of the way."

Dean could feel every muscle in his body tightening just like it did anything time Sam was threatened. "If something happens to him, you may just find out how reckless I can be."

Isabella kept her gun aimed at Sam, but she never took her eyes off of Dean. "Go get a drink at the bar. If you try anything, I have no problem with firing this gun. After all, you are in my saloon, and you're the strangers. No one will have any difficulty believing I was just defending myself."

Sam met his brother's eyes and gave a slight jerk of his head. Sam's expression clearly showed he did not way to leave. Dean lowered his eyes just a fraction and jerked his head. Sam hesitated but when Dean locked eyes with him, he sighed and stood up. Isabella slammed and locked to door behind him, then turned her attention to Dean. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm here to help." His eyes were trained on the guns.

"How do I know you're not working with Drake?"

"You don't." Dean saw down at the foot of the bed. "You've only got my word."

"If you're not here to help, then you've lied to me and you've taken advantage of my kindness by accepting this room. I see no benefit in keeping you here."

Dean leaned back against the foot of the bed. "Fine. Shoot me, you'll have killed someone for no reason, and the blood will be on your hands. You'll be no better than Drake."

For a moment he was sure his last comment was going to get him shot just for saying it. Isabella's shoulders dropped and she shook her head. "If you know nothing about what he's doing, there's no way you can help. You boys are welcome to the room for the night, but I recommend you pack your bags and leave in the morning." She lowered the guns. Her eyes locked with Dean's. He was sure for a moment she had something else to say. He raised his eyebrows expectantly, but she just turned and left the room.

Dean sank deeper into the bed. Seconds slowly dragged by as he waited for his brother's return. He had stoop up and was reaching for the knob when the door swung open. Dean stepped back let out a long deep breath. He could see the worry and the near panic matched in his brother's eyes.

Something about Sam's expression locked Dean down again. He could feel that older brother control he was so used to having. Any time Sam showed even the slightest show of weakness, it was like Dean hardened. He knew his father had expected him to be strong, he felt the more he had to take on, the happier that could let Sam be.

Dean turned to his brother and raised his eyebrows. "That went well."

Sam shook his head. "What are we going to do? We know what is going to happen to her. I don't think we can save her."

Dean had no idea what they were looking for and consequently had nothing to tell his brother. He had a longing for Dad's journal, or the trunk full weapons that he could clean. He was sick of ripping apart the story. Drake was still alive, so he was not a ghost, and from what Isabella had actually said to them, the problem was Drake who was an asshole, not something supernatural. He secretly agreed with Sam, he wasn't sure that he would know what the hell to do either.

"Well, when all else fails…let's go talk to the locals." He picked up Sam's hat and plunked it down on his brother's head. "Ready partner?"

He could feel the charge in the room. Sam didn't want to let that comment slip and Dean was hoping he wouldn't let him get away with it. But Sam just shook his head and stood up.

Dean was turning towards the door when the floor suddenly rocked, his center of gravity was thrown. He stumbled towards the bed and landed on the mattress. "What the hell?"

Sam's fingers were white from his grip on the blanket. Once they were sure the floor was no longer shaking, Sam pushed himself off the mattress and hurried over to the window and he peered outside.

"The mine," Dean said from behind him.

Sam pushed the curtain further back. The side of the mountain was scarred by a black plume.

Sam led the way down the stairs and out of the Saloon. A small crowd had already gathered in the street. They eased their way towards the front of the crowd, a place they'd learned over the years would hold the best gossip.

"Drake's boys did it."

"What do you mean?"

"What about the miners?"

"Drake's set up the explosion because the mayor wouldn't step down."

"Is anyone alive?"

"They wanted to find another way in to dig at night."

"Why would they want to do that?"

"Who ever has the money, controls the town!"

"Did anyone get hurt?"

The panic and the quick babble of voices was hard to keep up with, but both boys knew it was their best option to find out information quickly.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" A short fat man made his way to the front of the two. He held his hands up to help the chatter fade away. "Sheriff Greene and Deputy Gellar have already gone up to the mine to inspect what has happened. I must insist, that everyone wait until their return before—"

"My husband was in the mine!" A shrill voice shrieked.

The mayor looked physically pained. "As soon as the sheriff returns, I will let notify you all, but until then, I must insist that everyone remain here and away from the mine. We don't know how unsteady or unstable the area is. And until we can confirm that the area is safe, you would be doing more damage if anyone is stuck than you would be doing help."

"Who's that!?"

A figure was had just appeared at the end of the road. Ignoring the mayor's pleading, the crowd rushed forward. Sam and Dean followed. The young man was no older than twenty, his face was thick with dirty and grime. He collapsed onto the ground. Several people rushed forward. Orders were barked, someone went to find out what was keeping the doctor, women rushed inside to grab drinks, or blankets, or food. A man kneeled by the young man's head, keeping his face out of the dirt.

Dean glanced at his brother and quick motion, took the hat and dropped it over his own head. Sam looked at him quizzically, but didn't draw attention to the action.

Dean pulled the brim down as low as he could but kept his eyes on the scene in front of him.

If suspicions were flying already about Drake, Dean didn't want anyone to mistake him for Daniel again.

"Son," the mayor was saying. Dean turned his attention back to the situation at hand. "What happened?"

The young man coughed and several women shot the mayor a disapproving look. "Drake and his boys," he wheezed.

There was a gasp in the crowd as though the group had suspected it, but not wanted to believe it.

"About five of us were inside the mine. He told us to clear out. I was almost to the door, when it blew. I was thrown down the hillside. I-I don't know about others."

Several of the men stood up. "Mayor! You have to let us go! They need help!"

The older man scratched his white hair. He was struggling with something, but Dean wasn't sure what. "All right, Johnson, Beckett, head up to the mine, see if the Sheriff needs any assistance."

"Won't be necessary, Mr. Mayor," a voice broke in. Five men were coming down the road, Deputy Gellar and a miner supported a third who seemed to be unable to put his right leg down. Another man limped behind the sheriff. "The mine's caved in."

Fingernails dug into Dean's arm and Sam's sudden jerk showed he'd felt it too. "You boys need to get inside the Saloon now," Isabella muttered fiercely.

They followed her across the dust covered road and back into the building. "Wait here," she said as she turned and disappeared through a doorway in the back.

Sam sat and the bar and leaned in closer to his brother. "Dean, nothing about this is supernatural; this is not our kind of job. We need to find out how to get the hell out of here."

"_She_ is supernatural," he hissed. "Something that happens between now and when she dies causes her to create this damn loop that brings us back. Her ghost is not at rest in our time and you know that makes her our job."

"We can't change what happens. And I seriously double she's going to let us follow her around until he kills her."

"That's tonight," Dean said. "That's just in a few hours, Sam. So, something going to happen soon, because right now, she just doesn't seem like that pissed off spirit type to me."

"She's not happy with Daniel."

"And?"

"You know how it works, over time, spirits just get more and more pissed off."

"What if Drake is a spirit."

"What?"

Dean sighed, keeping half his attention on the doorway. "The legend said that Drake is killed in the cave in. So what if it's his spirit that we need to take care of?"

"We still can't save her Dean. If it was our time, yes, we could save her. But this is history, and time, and you can't change what happened."

"I swear, if you didn't have a college education, you wouldn't give a damn about this stuff, we'd just get in, get out and get the job done."

"We don't even really know what the job is," Sam snapped. "We're just here, hoping we don't do something stupid that destroys any chance of us getting out or something that gets our bodies hurt back home."

Isabella came back into the room. She laid two pistols on the counter. "I hope to hell you boys know how to shoot."


	10. Chapter 10

Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing, and waiting on me to get to this!

I hope you all enjoy! Please review, I love to hear your suggestions!

* * *

Dean picked up the guns, Colts, and handed one to his brother. "Why do you think we're going to need to be able to shoot?"

Isabella looked at the boys, there was no hint of a smile behind her eyes. "It's as a just-incase."

She turned and left the room.

Dean raised his eyebrows and checked the gun. The chambers were fully loaded.

"You son of a bitch!" Isabella's voice carried clearly up the stairs.

The brother's jerked their head towards each other. Then they bolted towards the door.

Dean was out the door first, he made his way past his brother, elbowing him out of the way. His boots thundered down the hallway. He could see down onto the first level before he reached the rail. Isabella had her gun cocked and held level at her shoulder, right at Drake.

"Everyone thinks you're dead."

"Well, you should have known that I wouldn't have left without saying goodbye to you."

Isabella's entire body was rigid, her eyes glaring down the barrel of the gun. Dean started down the stairs.

Drake heard the thump of Dean's shoes and turned around, his gun trained on the eldest Winchester. "Oh, Isabella, you minx. So he's why you're so happy to see me."

"_He_ has nothing to do with you, Drake."

"Is that right?" He pulled the trigger back.

Isabella pulled her own trigger. "Drake, I will not hesitate to pull this trigger."

Dean paused and glanced up the stairs at his brother. Sam expression screamed that if Drake didn't hurt Dean, he may.

"How did you do it, what happened at the mine?" Isabella demanded. "And what are you doing back here?"

"The mine was just a cave in. And I told you, I came back to see you."

"Your henchmen are reporting you're dead."

"They're good little puppets."

"Why do you want them to think you're dead?"

"Who's to stop a ghost from collecting?"

Dean could feel his heart pumping madly in his chest. Isabella made the mistake of looking up at him over.

Drake turned his dagger eyes back towards Dean. The gun shot rang across the saloon and Dean's body dropped on the stairs. Sam rushed forward.

"Stay still pretty boy, or you're next."

"Drake, let them leave. They have nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with you."

Dean eased his body up right. He waved away Sam who started to rush forward. He eased his hands down his leg. The bullet had just grazed his thigh, ripping a tear across the material and searing across his skin. He could felt the tacky blood under his fingers, a sharp burning sensation where the bullet had damaged his flesh. But it was just a flesh would. He'd been through worse. He'd survive this.

He looked as Isabella, they were still involved in their deadly dance.

"You should have just stayed dead," she said. She raised the gun and fired almost point blank at his heart.

Another gun shot went off and Dean felt Sam's body collide into him. To their right, wood cracked and splintered, then fell to the ground.

Once the room had settled, Sam stood up and stared around the room. Isabella was leaning against the bar, her hand around her mouth as she was coughing. Drake was no where to be seen.

"Dean, are you okay?" Sam asked, grabbing his brother's arms.

The elder Winchester grimaced as he stood up. "Yeah. We need to do something about my leg."

Sam looked down and nodded. He walked a few steps ahead of his brother, but never more than arm's length away.

Isabella glanced them over and shook her head at Dean. "I should have shot him. "You should have shot him, hell, one of us should have done something."

"Has he really done enough that you can justify killing him?" Dean asked.

"He's a monster."

Both brothers turned eagerly to her.

"What do you mean?" Sam prodded gently.

Isabella narrowed her eyebrows and shook her head. "He doesn't mind killing."

Dean felt a bit of the hope fade away. He wouldn't kill an innocent man, no matter how much the man was murderer, but if it was supernatural…"I thought that was the cowboy way. You do what you want when you want, to who you want."

Isabella shook her head. She walked behind the bar and reappeared with a glass bottle and a clear liquid. "If you got a strap of leather, you might want to bite down, this is going to sting like hell."

She pour the liquid fire over Dean's wound and for a moment, he thought the pain was going to knock him off the stool. "That's worse than the gun shot!"

"I know how Drake treats his weapons. If we live though this night you'll thank me for it when you don't lose that leg."

"What makes you say _if_," Sam asked.

"He's got murder on his mind," Isabella said simply. "Drake has always been drawn to chaos, destruction, and violence. It's like he's drawn to it. I've never understood it. I don't think he does. But he gets himself into situations, like the mine. The mayor may be a buffoon, but the miner who cam back to town, he isn't. If he says that cave killed everyone inside, then that's what it was damned likely to do. Drake just vanishes, like smoke whenever things get out of control."

"What do you think his plans are?" Sam asked.

Dean was leaning heavily on the edge of the stool. He almost felt like his blood stream has sucked down the alcohol she'd poured on his leg. His head felt heavy and he was having difficulty concentrating.

"He wants control of this town. He tried election, earlier in the year. He lost. Ever since then, he's talked about ways he could take over."

"So, you've got a thing for the bad boys," Dean sniggered.

Isabella leaned on the counter as she faced him. Dean was sure this was a trick she'd employed many nights at the bar. Or if she'd hadn't, he'd been giving her far too much credit for being an intelligent woman. "I guess you could say that."

Sam cleared his throat loudly drawing both of their attention. "Do you want help with that piece of railing?"

"Well, aren't you handy? I've got a hammer and some nails, let me grab them."

She'd already disappeared through a door before Sam could stop her. He'd just meant he'd help move it away. Apparently now, he'd be fixing it."

"How's your leg."

"I'm fine," Dean stated, shifting his weight on the stool.

"You remember that what happen here happens back there to you body."

"I know."

Sam looked up at the fallen piece of railing then up to the gaping hole it'd left before. "Look familiar?"

Dean pulled is head in the direction his brother was pointing, then he slowly start to nod. "The piece that fell in our time."

"Is any of this not adding up to you?" Sam asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Isabella for one. She really seemed like she wanted to kill you when we first got here, but now, she's flirting with you." Dean shrugged his leather clad shoulders and Sam sighed. "She hadn't tried to kill you. Drake has."

"But it's her spirit I've seen," Dean shot back.

"Well, what the hell are you about to do that's going to piss her off?


End file.
